It's 7am.

I went to bed last night at 1am, on a high after seeing fucking Mos Def live at some big blue box downtown. I woke up quite suddenly three hours later, anxious, restless, and very awake. I watched the majority of a movie to try to lull me back to the unconscious state from where I had abruptly come from but the next thing I knew it was no longer dark outside. Shit.

My thoughts went to my boyfriend. What would I do if he was here? Rouse him in the hopes of some blue activities that would eventually put me back to sleep, or perhaps to have a companion awake at this hour (aside from the cats, who I could hear meowing in front of my door)? Alas, I was alone, and thoroughly awake.

So now what?



I don't know. My options seem limited, as my non-feline comrades are all sound asleep in their cozy beds and lollipop dreamworlds. And here I sit, yawning, but not sleeping, with a decision to make. Sleep now, and sleep until noon? Or get the f up and crash hard later? Neither decision has a desirable outcome.

What if I would have just not opened my eyes when I first stirred three hours ago? Would I have fallen back to sleep, blissfully unaware of these few hours of semi-conscious hell? Or was I always destined to experience this early morning fucking insomnia for a greater purpose?

The sun's up now. Balls.